


Oh, Hullo

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU University, Bad influence victor, Drugs, Fucking Victor!, M/M, Pre-Johnlock, Smut, Victor is a horrible person but he's so pathetic that you have to love him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-08 18:37:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1951860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock meets a boy at uni named Victor. Victor is a disaster waiting to, no, CURRENTLY happening.</p><p>Unattached prequel to This Just Sort Of Happened</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disaster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts).



> For my gorgeous yarnjunkie. Love you, pet.

"I expect you to call at least once a week. You know how mummy worries." Mycroft said, holding Sherlock's luggage just out of reach. 

"I'm not the one that worries her, Mycroft." Sherlock said while rolling his eyes. 

Mycroft frowned and handed Sherlock his things. It was the last he would see of his younger brother until Christmas break and, even though he didn't want to admit it, he would miss the brat. Sherlock walked away, dragging his things and pulling his coat close around him. Mycroft thought he looked incredibly small in it. 

Sherlock rounded the corner and checked his school map. He didn't permit Mycroft to walk him all the way to the dorms, as he didn't want to be the one who needed his older brother to help him. It was bad enough that he hadn't hit his promised growth spurt AND was starting uni three years early. 

He finally found the dorm and made his way down the corridor. There were students packing it, hands heavy leaden with bags and loved ones crowding around. He slipped through the mess of people and got to his room. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. 

It was dark, window blinds drawn and lights out, and cool. It seemed like no one had lived in it for years. It smelled of old books and dusk and possibly mold, and the beds were pushed to one side to accommodate two large desks. It was, all in all, perfect. 

Once the luggage was dragged in Sherlock walked to one of the beds and lay down on top of the blanket. It was so nice and quiet, just quiet enough for him to think. He wondered absently if his roommate had died. It would be nice. Not the death part, mind you, (Okay, maybe the death part, too) but the part where he got the room to himself. He stretched out on the bed and started deciding how hard it would be to fit the extra bed out the window. 

The door slammed open and a boy was pushed in. He was tall with auburn hair and sinewy muscle. Two boys walked in after. They stood over him and one backhanded him. Sherlock lay completely still, hoping they wouldn't see him. They didn't seem to. 

"If you think you can get away with shite like that around here you're in for a rude waking!" The tallest of the brutes said. 

"I think it's 'rude awakening'." The auburn haired boy said weakly. 

The taller one hit him again. 

"If I see you anywhere near her again I'll crush you." He sneered. 

The blond boy relaxed when they left the room. He looked around after a moment and caught Sherlock's eye. 

"Oh, hullo." He said with a huge grin. 

Sherlock sat up tentatively, not sure how to respond to someone that looked so happy after just being hit. He decided not to say anything. 

"Those guys didn't mean any harm." The boy said. "They thought I was hitting on the taller one's girlfriend. Silly. I'm gay. Ha. Yup, love it up the arse. How about you?" 

Sherlock choked on his own breath and scooted back on the bed. 

"Oh, how rude of me. I'm Victor. You can call me Vic, or Victor, or Victoria I suppose. Hell, I've never been called V before." Victor (Vic, Victoria, V) said. 

"Sherlock." Sherlock replied. 

"Alright, Sherlock, Sherly, Sherl. I like it."

"Just Sherlock."

"Noted." The boy said with an almost manic grin. 

Sherlock stood and went to the loo. He stopped in the doorway and turned around. 

"I'm gonna take a shower." 

"Yeah, okay. Showers are good. Cool." The boy rattled on. 

Sherlock closed the door behind him and turned the tap on. He sat on the floor while the shower ran. What an absolute lunatic. How in the hell was he supposed to get through a year with that greasy haired psycho hanging around? 

After ten minutes Sherlock stood, got his hair wet and then turned the shower off. He ruffled his clothes as if they'd been on the floor and walked back into the shared room. The boy was sitting on the window ledge smoking the lasts of a cigarette. He grinned at Sherlock and tossed the butt out the window. 

"Thanks for the cigarette. It was your last one. Well, gotta run." The boy said, shrugging and leaving the room. 

Sherlock stood with his mouth hanging open. What in the hell?


	2. One, And Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor comes back to the dorm room bearing gifts.

When Victor walked back through the front door later that night he had a large box in his hands. He put it down on the table and looked over at Sherlock, who had been reading and having a good enough time on his own. Sherlock frowned at him and the boy quirked a smile. 

"I brought you a present." Victor said. 

Sherlock's frown deepened until he saw what Victor was taking out of the box. There were three different graduated cylinders, a hot plate and the bulkier item was a microscope. Sherlock set his book down and gravitated to the table without a second thought. 

"Where did you get these?" He asked. 

Victor shrugged and smiled wider. "Science department was throwing them away. They were in a bin out back. I read through your schedule while you pretended to take a shower and noted all the advanced sciences you're taking. Well, not advanced for the school, but you are three years under the normal admittance age."

Sherlock looked up, not sure what problem to tackle first. He wanted to believe that the science department was throwing these things away because if he believed that he wouldn't have to give them back. He decided to hold onto that lie for later dissection. 

"How did you know I wasn't really taking a shower?" He asked instead. 

Victor grabbed a bag of crisps from his large jacket and jumped back onto his bed. He looked so relaxed that Sherlock wanted for just a second to be him. 

"The pitch of the water. It didn't change. It would have changed as you washed your hair and scrubbed your back, but it didn't. It remained the same because the trajectory of the spray wasn't being directed off a moving target." Victor said with a full mouth. 

Sherlock winced at the sound of the crisps being mashed between his teeth but had to admit that he wanted to hear more. More about Victor's insights, not more of him talking through what would soon become a fine spray of potato and chive. 

"You were able to pay attention to the sound of the shower while also finding out my schedule?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"Pitch of the water, and yes. I can do at least five things at once." Victor said with another wide grin. 

Sherlock snorted and crossed his arms as he moved to the hot plate on the counter. 

"And what five things are you doing right now?" Sherlock asked. 

"Eating crisps, talking to you, listening to the conversation of the lad next door, planing my next three hours and wondering what I'd have to do to stick my tongue in your mouth." Victor said quickly. 

Sherlock turned around and pulled a face. "Disgusting."  

"Which part?" Victor asked. 

"One and five." Sherlock replied honestly. 

"I was gonna offer you the other bag. Shame." Victor said, shaking a second crisp bag in the air with a sly grin. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and set up the microscope. It was a few years old, and well used, but still a better model than the one he had brought with him. A loud knock came to the door and he spun around to look at Victor. The boy raised a single finger to his lips and slipped onto the floor and under his own bed. The knock came again.

"Who is it?" Sherlock asked. 

"Where the bloody hell is Victor?" A voice said from the other side of the door. 

"He's not in right now." Sherlock said firmly. 

The door burst open and two boys who looked nothing like the angry ones from the morning walked in. They were both more than a bit taller than Sherlock, but that was to be expected here. The taller one seemed to be the brains of the operation, even though he didn't look in the closet or bathroom, and the smaller one the muscle. They looked around and Sherlock stifled a giggle when one sniffed the air. Unsatisfied, they walked closer to Sherlock and the short one pressed him against the wall. 

"You'll let him know we came by." The taller one said. 

Sherlock, who's breath was caught in his throat by a large muscular arm, nodded the affirmative. The short boy let him go and the two walked out. Sherlock breathed deeply for a second before walking over and slamming the door shut behind them. Victor crawled out from under the bed and rested on his back on the floor. 

"How do you already have two sets of angry blokes threatening you on the first day?" Sherlock asked in a harsh whisper. 

Victor smiled and pulled a handful of boiled sweets from his pocket, picking one and letting the others fall around him like a trash halo. 

"Guess I'm just that good." He said, unwrapping and popping the one he picked into his mouth. 

Sherlock kicked away the sweet that had rolled to his foot and went back to the microscope. He could feel Victor watching him and was a bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny. 

"I'm going to a party tonight. You should come with." Victor said at length. 

"Why?" Sherlock spit. "So I can help you steal stuff and get beat up?" 

Victor chuckled lightly and sat up on his elbows. He didn't deny it and Sherlock was set on ignoring him but it was really hard. There was something about Victor's obvious lack of giving a shit that made Sherlock want to have the last word so much that even when he did he wasn't satisfied. 

He wanted Victor to deny that his plans were to go somewhere and steal something and probably get a bloody nose, care of some lad's fist. He wanted Victor to tell him that he had some nice person Sherlock should meet and they would have a good time. He didn't even care if it was a lie because he knew, he bloody knew, that he was going to go out with Victor no matter what, and if the bastard would lie to him he could at least pretend to have been duped. The little shit wouldn't. 

Sherlock went back to his bed and lay down to read. Okay, he went to his bed to pretend to read. The second strange thing he was just coming to realise about Victor, beyond the fact that Sherlock WANTED to be around him, was that he made Sherlock want to feign disinterest. Sherlock rarely had any inclination to do so in the rest of his life because he was so often honestly disinterested. 

He was obviously not doing a good job because Victor went to Sherlock's small dresser and started going through his clothes. The boy picked out a dark green shirt and a pair of charcoal trousers and placed them on the bed next to Sherlock. He then proceeded to pick out another shirt, red this time, and pair of trousers, black, and strip. He left his clothes on the floor and pulled on Sherlock's. It was the most bizarre thing Sherlock had ever seen anyone do. 

"Get dressed, we'll leave in ten. Do you have any cologne?" Victor asked. 

Sherlock set down his book and scowled at the boy who was wearing his favorite red shirt, and making it look good, and shook his head. Victor just shrugged and buttoned the trousers. Sherlock began to wonder if this was some kind of social experiment as he actually got up and started to change. 


	3. Thank God

The whole room was full of smoke and loud music. Sherlock thought he might be sick. And yet, like an idiot, he followed Victor to the kitchen and took the beer he was offered. He'd brought a small notepad with him, hoping that at least he could get some proper people watching in, but it looked like it wouldn't get put to any use. He took a sip of the beer and followed Victor to the balcony. 

They were lucky to find it empty and Sherlock sat with Victor and let his legs hang over the edge. The balcony was littered with cans and cigarette butts and Sherlock was actually tempted to pick up one of the least used ones and get a couple drags in. 

He'd only started smoking two summers ago, stealing a cigarette from his father or brother and hiding out behind the greenhouse. It made him feel, and he knew this was foolish, older. He was looking possible death and bodily harm, in the form of cancer, in the eye and growling 'come on, then'. He knew it was stupid human nature, the desperate rebellion against the pressure to survive and reproduce, but he didn't care. 

That summer had brought with it his first kiss, Henry Marrow behind the science building, and his first blow job (given, not received). He'd felt like a proper adult even though he was just pushing thirteen. He didn't realise, and wouldn't until much later in life, that nothing that sweet and carefree could indicate adulthood. 

Victor pulled a half empty pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and shook one out. He lit it and sucked gently so the fire took, then breathed a cloud of smoke out and passed the pack to Sherlock. Sherlock lit one and tried to pass the rest back. 

"Naw. Just figure it's payback for the one I stole from you this morning." He said, waving his hand and taking a long drag. 

Sherlock stuffed it in his pocket and eyed Victor carefully. 

"If you had your own pack why take my last one?" He asked, looking out at the dark parking lot that faced the flat they were in. 

"Maybe I wanted to see how angry you'd get. Maybe I wanted to see if you could last a whole day without one. I don't know, maybe I didn't want to get up and fish mine out of my bag." Victor said, taking another drag and flicking the ashes over the edge of the railing. 

Sherlock purposely closed his mouth, as it was hanging open in a way he was starting to associate with the strange boy. "Which is it?" 

Victor smiled and leaned in close. Sherlock supressed the shiver that was aching to work its way down his spine. 

"The truth, Sherly? A little of each." He whispered. 

Sherlock frowned and flicked the ash away. He really didn't know how to approach someone so completely unapologetic for their bad behavior. He almost wanted to be like that, to not care. 

"Are you always such a bastard? Roommates should know a little about each other after all." He quipped. 

Victor shrugged and took a sip of his beer. 

"Anything else I should know?" Sherlock added. 

Victor grinned stupidly and pulled a bottle of cheap whiskey from his jacket. "I nicked us something better than beer." 

"I wouldn't say better." Sherlock replied. 

"More efficient then. You appreciate efficiency, don't you?" 

Sherlock knocked back the last of his beer and passed the plastic cup over, blushing and not willing to address how sexual that comment had felt. Victor poured half of the lot into his cup, filling it to the rim, and took a swig directly from the bottle. Sherlock took a sip and winced at the burn in his throat. 

"So, Sherlock, what do you want to be when you grow up?" Victor asked with flash sincerity. 

Sherlock took a large gulp and another pull from his cigarette. This was a question that always stumped him. What he didn't realise was that it stumped nearly everyone his age. 

"I don't know." He replied honestly, already letting his filter down as the alcohol pumped through his veins. 

"Not good enough, soldier." Victor said, punching Sherlock in the arm. 

Sherlock growled and rubbed his bicep. 

"Well? If you had to choose right now, right at this very moment, what would it be?" Victor pushed. 

Sherlock took another gulp of the amber liquid and tried his best to make sense. "I just don't want to be bored." 

Victor nodded and finished his cigarette. "I'd say spy, but you don't have enough willingness to follow commands, so I'll settle with vigilante." 

Sherlock snorted at that. "Don't you have to give a shit about the common good to be a vigilante?" 

"Naw! You could just decide what cause you feel like fighting for. Be a vigilante for science, for knowledge! You could pull that off!" Victor announced. 

Sherlock thought for the first time that day that he might actually grow to like Victor. The other boy seemed to hone in on it with predatory accuracy. He studied Sherlock's face and a small smiled ghosted over his own. 

"You could, you know. You're a genius. I hacked a computer at the lab and checked out your transcripts." Victor said, scooting closer and whispering in Sherlock's ear. "Do you ever get to turn that big brain of yours off?" 

Sherlock shook his head nervously. "Can't do it. It goes all the time. Never shuts up." 

Victor brought his fingers to Sherlock's chin and pulled it so he was looking him in the eye. He licked his own lips and then bit down on his bottom one as he cocked his head to the side. Sherlock knew it was for show but it didn't stop his traitorous cock from taking note. 

"Can I give it a go? I bet I could switch it off." Victor murmured, leaning in and brushing his lips against Sherlock's. 

Sherlock knew he was looking for permission so he nodded and breathed a deep sigh. Victor sealed their lips together and darted his tongue against the seam. It was at once tentative and confident, passionate and hesitant. In short, it was nothing like Sherlock's other two kisses. It wasn't wet or sloppy and Sherlock thought he could get quite used to this as Victor kissed down to his neck and started to worry the skin there. 

Victor kissed up to his ear and took the earlobe between his teeth, and Sherlock wondered what it would be like to be sucked by him, and then he didn't think anything. His mental facilities took a bloody field day as Victor stuck his tongue in his ear. Thank god his breathing was autonomic. Thank god.


End file.
